



THE 

POET 

AND 

HIS SELF 

ARLO 

BATES 







LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

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Shelf.. '?='4 
Slx^^l 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



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THE POET AND HIS SELF 



!32 tjje Same ^xit|}or. 


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• 




ROBERTS BROTHERS, Publishers. 



THE 



Poet and His Self 



ARLO BATES 




BOSTON 

ROBERTS BROTHERS 

1891 



' , r. ^ ^ 



Copyright, 1891, 
By Roberts Brothers. 



John Wilson and Son, Cambridge, U. S. A. 



Co t{)e ilMemotg 

of 

fEIeanor Putnam/ 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE 

The Poet and His Self ii 

Clarisine the Countess 26 

The Ballad of Bloody Rock 33 

The Poplars 40 

The Swallow 44 

Reunion 46 

The Finished Task 47 

The Return of the Dead 48 

And After 50 

In the Lighthouse 51 

The Great Sphinx 53 

By the Sea 56 

Night Song 57 

Pope John XXIII 58 

Guilt 60 

Encounter 6[ 

When First Love Comes 62 

Sleep (,^ 



Vlll CONTENTS. 

From a Sketchbook,— page 

After the Storm 65 

A Sunset 65 

The Cliff . 66 

A Southern Sunset 66 

An Afternoon 67 

Nightfall 67 

Under the Moon 67 

Off Ireland 68 

The Inscrutable Sea 68 

A March Day 69 

Harun 70 

A Reminiscence TZ 

The Advance 75 

Love is a Knave n 

Pulpit Rock 78 

To A Slipper 80 

In Tulipee 82 

A Flower Cycle, — 

The Crocus 84 

The Trilliums 84 

The Water Lily 86 

The Wild-Briar 87 

The Columbine 88 



CONTENTS. ^^ 



PAGE 



A FLOWER Cycle {continued),— 

The Foxglove. •" 

The Cardinal Flower ^i 

92 

The Lupine 

93 

The Meadow Rue 

94 

The Jasmine 

The Purple Aster 

98 

Fragrance ^^^ 

Death and Love 

Bereavement 

... 104 
The Love of the Dead 

The Sphinx ^^^ 

Chopin's Nocturne in G Minor 

A Song of Tokens 

A Man's Reproach 

A Birth-Chance . 

Forward! 

A Remorse 

To My Infant Son 

Fardels,— ^^^ 

The Moon-Maidens 

... 121 
Age-Dread 

For a Sun-Dial 

A Woman's Thought 



X 



CONTENTS. 



Fardels [contimied),— 

" PAGE 

The Whole of Truth j^» 

A Dull Day .... 

123 

The Change . . . 

124 

A Word's Weight j 

Abandonment ... 

125 

Solitude ... 

^ ^25 

To a Coquette 

Parting ^ 

126 

Tantalus ... ^ 
126 

Cupid's Bargain 

An Answer \ ^ ^ 

Wee Rose ... o 
120 

To A Flying-Fish . . 

129 

A Shape 

132 

Judith 

133 

Sung to an Antique Lute for Sylvia 135 

The Spanish Main ... 

140 

A Burial ..... 

142 

By a Grave 

143 

The Oriole . . . 

145 

The Beginning and Ending 148 



THE POET AND HIS SELF. 
I. 

THE POET SPEAKS : 

OINCE a lie that soothes is better 

Than a truth that bites and stings ; 
Since the manacled wretch in fetter 

Is happier dreaming of wings ; 
Let us make the whole world our debtor ; 

Go to ; let us sing smooth things ! 

Since fate has trapped us and caged us, 
Why should we beat at the bars ? 

When cares of the earth have engaged us, 
Why need we long for the stars ? 

When the old wounds have enraged us. 
Why should we risk fresh scars? 



THE POET AND HIS SELF. 

Let us live in a world of seeming, 
For the truth cannot be borne ; 

In fancy youth's pledges redeeming, 
Since reality still is forsworn ; 

Man is happy only in dreaming, — 
To waken is ever to mourn. 



11. 

HIS SELF SPEAKS : 

TF fate has indeed ensnared thee, 
Foil her at least by thy scorn ; 
The deepest of woes is spared thee, 

And thou art not wholly forlorn, 
So long as thy manhood is left thee ; — 
When fate has of that bereft thee. 

Thou mayst curse the day thou wast born. 

Who, then, art thou, who presumest 

Wisdom and hope to destroy? 
What is this thing thou assumest, 

That the end of life is joy? 



THE POET AND HIS SELF. 13 

Excusing thine own weak complaining 

Is this plea that no hope is remaining, 

That its visions are but fate's decoy. 

Be brave, and in face of disaster 

Hold fast to thy courage, that so 
Thou mayst meet thy fate as its master, 
Not crouch as a slave to its blow. 
Life at worst is but pendulum swinging, 
From despair unto joy ever springing, 
As the morn after night doth show. 



Ill, 

THE POET SPEAKS : 

T170RDS, words, words ! I have heard them 

Said over a thousand times. 
The prophets and mockers who gird them, 
The poets and men of rhymes. 
Have raved them and said them and sung them, 
And with meaningless iterance rung them, 
Till they stale like grimaces of mimes ! 



14 THE POET AND HIS SELF. 

What though one coward call me ? 

A word — is it more than air ? 
What evil more hard could befall me 
Than the pain of life to bear? 
Though I am but one, yet my vision 
Must for me set the seal of decision 
On Hfe's gifts, be they foul or fair. 



IV. 



HIS SELF SPEAKS : 

T^OST thou remember how one summer morn — 
When all night through the blackness of the 
wood 
Had bitter fancies thy feet led and scorn 

Of all life offered thee of hope or good, — 
Thou cam'st to the fair margent of a stream 
Whose netted ripples snared the sun's first beam, 
Pale, broken flecks of gold with topaz gleam ; 

And how thou lookst across the little flood 

To where a hillside sloped, one lawn of green 



THE POET AND HIS SELF. 15 

Broken by snow of birch boles, and by bud 
Of daffodils not yet awake between ; 
And down a winding way light moving came 
A maid demure, in robe as white as flame, 
With eyes as pure as Mary's holy name. 

And only that such loveliness could be 

Thou didst the bitter doubt of night forego. 
What was there changed between the world and thee? 
She did but smile, and from thy sight passed so ; 
And yet thou wert no more of sombre mind. 
Since beauty thus thy bitter thoughts could bind 
Canst thou not still in beauty comfort find? 



V. 

THE POET SPEAKS : 

A H, me, how beautiful was she ! 

With the slant sunbeams on her gold hair 
glinting. 
And stir of virginal white vesture, hinting 
How sweet the bosom's curve must be. 



1 6 THE POET AND HIS SELF. 

Too swift she passed, as through a rift 
Of cloud one sees the moon in beauty sailing 
But to be gone. Beneath her robe's soft trailing 

Their heads I saw the violets lift ; 

And birds, though not a note was heard 
In all the vale till then, broke forth in singing, 
And voiced the rapture of my heart, upspringing 

In ecstasy beyond all word ! 

VI. 

HIS SELF SPEAKS : 



D" 



kOST thou remember how one storm-wild 
night 

Thou stoodst amid the surf that howled and hissed. 
And with a fume of froth that whelmed thy sight, 
Bit at the rocks and clutched them, fiercely roaring, 
And worried them, till in a rage of mist 
It sprang in fury skyward soaring ; 

And how a boat, o'er the life-hungry swell 
'Swept by strong hands, fought its way to the shore ; 



THE POET AND HIS SELF. 17 

Till one brave sailor leaped into the hell 
Of waves like beasts blood-frantic ; how unshrinking 
Though torn and broken, he to safety bore 

A weak old man snatched from the frail bark 
sinking ? 

What was it all to thee? And yet thine heart 
Tingled and burned to glorify the deed. 

Simply that thou and he were men, a part 
Thy spirit claimed in that brave act of daring. 
When man could thus heroic be, there seemed no need 
To ask if manhood were not worth the sharing. 



VII. 



THE POET SPEAKS : 

A ND still I see the snarling wave draw back, 
And crouch, and spring again, swift as a thought 
And strong as fire ! 
Maddened with baffled ire. 
It tore the sand and rent the rocks for lack 

Of the poor human prey it sought, 
Till of its own blind rage it died distraught. 



i8 THE POET AND HIS SELF. 

VIII. 

HIS SELF SPEAKS: 

VU'HY do some names strewn down a printed 
page 
Like pearls let fall upon red, orient sands, 
Make thine eyes glisten, and heroic rage 

Beat hotly in thine heart? Of far off lands 
And other times the men who living bore them, 
And centuries their dusts have scattered o'er them. 

What is Leonidas or Curtius 

Or Winkelried to thee, that but their names 
Can move thee thus ? Their deeds and courage thus 
Make thy throat swell, and visionary flames 
Dazzle thine eyes ? What won these men in dying 
That still they live, the centuries defying ? 



THE POET AND HIS SELF. 



IX. 



THE POET SPEAKS : 

'T^HEY loved their country with a love more strong 
Than death ; and while earth stands, so long 

Their names shall shine, enriching story. 
Fame for themselves have won a countless throng ; 

For all mankind these won eternal glory ! 



X. 

HIS SELF SPEAKS : 

'T^HERE were two lovers walking by the sea, 

With eyes that spoke in flame and yet were 
pure ; 
The day was dying, but there could not be 
Or day or night to them, or cloud or sun. 
But in each other, all the world too poor 
To buy the wealth was in one look, in one 
Fond kiss of tenderness and fire, 
The apotheosis of chaste desire. 



20 



THE POET AND HIS SELF. 



And thou upon the chff above them lay, 
Touched with the tenderness such love behoved, 
And watched them bathed by dying day 
In flood of gold ; and all thy youth before thee 
Rose up again, and love's old languors o'er thee 
Lapsed like the sea. How deep thy soul was moved 
The tears hot springing to thine eyelids proved. 



XI. 

THE POET speaks: 



O 



|H, love, that bids all else defiance. 

And makes men gods ! Love proves the deep 
alliance 
Of seen and unseen ; soul to kindred soul 

Is by it joined, although between them roll 
The star-floods of all space ; and walking there 
Symbol of holiest mysteries was this pair. 



THE POET AND HIS SELF. 

XII. 

HIS SELF SPEAKS : 

TF beauty, courage, patriotism, love, 

Make thee exult in being ; 
If all life's ills they lift thy soul above 
Only in others seeing ; 
What must it be to kindle with such flame ? 
And who art thou a life so rich to blame ? 

Ever the spite of little souls 'gainst life 

Finds vent in peevish railing ; 
The self-sick egotist with self at strife 
Still seeketh unavailing 
Some fair excuse his weakness to explain ; 
And cries that life, not he, is void and vain. 

XIII. 

THE POET SPEAKS : 

T3UT man is like a child lost in the dark, 

Who knows not where he is or how bested. 
What boots to offer toys to him? A spark 
Of light were worth them all amid that dread. 



22 THE POET AND HIS SELF. 

What joy is joy to him who walks in fear? 

Can life be comforted till 't is without 
The blinding pain of human ignorance, 

The stinging ache of human doubt? 

XIV. 

HIS SELF SPEAKS : 

T IFE is here, life is now, and who spends it in 

yearning 
To guess whither it tends, whence it comes, 
where it goes, 
Only wastes golden hours, and fails in the learning 
The secret it hides or the lesson it shows. 
Be content not to know ; life is doing, not knowing ; 
Only be, only live, only do ; still foregoing 

The unknovvn for the known while around thee it 
glows. 

For the wisdom of life is to live, not to question 
Of a meaning so hidden no eye can discern ; 

Oft the secret is told in some lightest suggestion, 
Who drinks deep of life's cup best life's meaning 
shall learn. 



THE POET AND HIS SELF. 23 

Be content not to know, and each moment shall teach 

thee, 
Through beauty and love shall the mystery reach thee, 
Though elusive it vanished before at each turn. 

Life is good if we live without question. In sorrow 

It is doubt that smites ever with bitterest blows ; 

To the grief of the present the dread of the morrow 

Adds in anguish a sting the most cruel it knows. 

Be content not to know ; and with manly endeavor 

Battle down the grim fear of forever or never ; — 

Live to-day, live to-day, live to-day, ere it goes ! 

Life is here, life is now, but the moment is fleeting ; 

Live it fully in courage, as if it were all ; 
In the strength of thy manhood to make thy heart's 
beating 
Lead thee on unto victory e'en though thou fall ! 
Be content not to know; all the lore of the sages 
Nothing better can teach ; and the lesson of ages 

Is but this : live to-day, for thy moment is small ! 



24 THE POET AND HIS SELF. 

XV. 

THE POET SPEAKS : 

TDUT not to know ! To go on blindly 

From doubt to doubt ; unwitting if or kindly 
Or cruel be the god or chance or fate 
Whose will we wait ! 

XVI. 

HIS SELF SPEAKS : 

/^H, passing gleam on life's tumultuous sea, 

What then art thou ! Count all the tribes that 
swarm 
About the earth, that have been or shall be, 
Then reckon all the stars, whose glories warm 
The void illimitable, nor will the tale 
The sum of being to express avail. 

When thou canst call the ocean dry if one 

Of all its drops shall fail, or count the earth, 
If one poor air-mote fall, a thing fordone. 



THE POET AND HIS SELF. 25 

Then mayst thou dare complain if in thy birth 
The All hath failed itself to justify. 
Till then be humble, and forbear thy cry. 

A drop wave-scattered on the shore of time, 

A mote wind-blown, is in the universe 
As great a thing as thou. Eons sublime 
And beings infinite, must he rehearse 
Who of the All would reason ; can its span 
Be measured by so small a scale as man? 

What is, has been and shall be. It is well 

In that it is. Be glad if thou of all 
Some tiny syllable of truth canst spell. 
Before the awful mystery to fall 
In reverence is man's part ; while onward roll 
The mighty marches of the Eternal Whole ! 



26 CLARISINE THE COUNTESS. 



CLARISINE THE COUNTESS. 

LA MORT D'ARTHURE; I, xcix. 

/^OD knows we were in such a desperate case 

The very warders at the city's gates 
Wept as our train passed out, and on each face 

Were fear and dole ; since he who held our fates 
In his sole grasp, the blameless king and high. 
Great Arthur, might our piteous prayer deny. 

All the court women and each damosel 
After the Duchess following, down the way 

Strewn with the signs of battle fierce and fell 
Our train rode slow, until before us lay 

The splendid circle of pavilions bright 

Where Arthur's Table Round encamped its might. 

From lances in the greensward thrust hung shields 

And fluttered pennants gay with many a hue ; 
And helmets dinted deep in hard fought fields. 



CLAKISINE THE COUNTESS. 27 

The silken curtains waving, gave to view 
Brave cups of gold with jewels set thereon, 
The spoil of cities Arthur's host had won. 

And everywhere were signs of conquest ; spoil 
Of Lombardie, Braband, and high Almaine, 

Loraine, and Flaunders ; wealth that patient toil 
Had gathered but to lose ; and now Tuskaine 

Must pay its share. And all about our town 

The moats were filled, the walls were broken down. 

So piteous was the contrast, even I 

Who hated so this Duchess, could have wept 

To see her anguish as our train drew nigh 

King Arthur's tent, as if in dreams we stepped 

From a land smit with famine into one 

Where plenty smiled like the high noonday sun. 

To see the pages crumble manchet bread 

To feed the hounds, made our mouths water. Meat 

In all our city there was none. Instead 
We ate of things here trodden under feet. 

I could have struggled with the pampered pack 

For a stray morsel, had not pride held back. 



28 CLARISINE THE COUNTESS. 

On the bare ground the Duchess bent her knees 
Before the Enghsh king, and all her train 

Kneeled as she kneeled ; and crouching there witli 
these 
I seemed her bridal state to see again 

That day she came among us, and we bowed 

The knee in homage to her beauty proud. 

That day lives in my memory when she came 
To wed my lord and love ; and now my heart 

Swelled with so fierce a joy to view her shame 
My eyes with tears of bitter bliss did smart. 

That was her hour, and this, forsooth, was mine : 

Yet still I held my peace and gave no sign. 

The King avaled his visor, and his face 

AV^as meek and noble, while she humbly prayed 

He spare the town. " Have pity in your grace," 
She pleaded kneeling. " Let the siege be stayed. 

For love of God receive the city's keys, 

And spare the helpless babes, old men and these." 

And all we women beat upon the breast 

In woman's wise, and moaned and wept like rain ; 



CLARIS/ NE THE COUNTESS. 29 

Till Arthur swore his awful sword should rest, 

If but the city ceased resistance vain, 
And gave the Duke up that on him for all 
The vengeance of the conqueror might fall. 

She that had moved the Duke to send us here. 
She that had slept within his arms and shared 

His children's love, she that had vowed more dear 
Than life to hold him, how was it she dared 

To hear such proffer nor to fling it back 

With scorn and rage, lest earth to gulf her crack ! 

There is a nook I wot of, by a stream, 

Shut round with pollard willows from the sun, 

Where once he kissed me on the lips. I deem. 
In sooth, had there between them been but one 

Embrace so full of love, she had not then 

Bartered her lord to save a world of men. 

Helpless I heard him thus betrayed to save 

A paltry city ! God's blood ! My lip through 

I set my teeth to keep back curses. Grave, 
To which we all go, I will he in you 

And curse this Duchess till the bolt of God 

Must needs flame out and smite her to the sod ! 



30 CLARISINE THE COUNTESS. 

What were a thousand mighty cities' fates 

To his ? Would all the fair lands of Tuskaine 

Were wrapi>ed in flame, and every city's gates 
Swarmed with invaders, so he might remain 

Safe in his high estate, and unafraid. 

It was his wife and not his love betrayed ! 

And then anon the King stayed the assault j 
And I must see, who could not flee away 

As common wenches might, and hide, how Rolt, 
The Duke's first son, so like him one might say 

One were the other save for odds of years, 

Delivered up the keys. Quick -springing tears 

Blinded my eyes, till each fair burnished shield 
Wavered with swimming outline, one dull blur 

The brave deface emblazoned on its field ; 
He was so like his father ; not of her, 

His treacherous mother, one remotest trace. 

He might have been my son for all his face ! 

Gay as a garden bed where tulips crowd. 

The knights of the Round Table stood, with plume 
And helm, and shield, in gold and samite proud, 



CLARIS! NE THE COUNTESS. 31 

And scarves, fair ladies' tokens, like the bloom 
Of all the flowers shall spring in fair Tuskaine 
From graves of her brave sons these swords have slain. 

And flutes and rebecks, tabor, pipe and lute, 
Made mellow all the air, their notes elate 

With insolence of victory ; as mute 

We came a second time in mournful state. 

While in a litter, hurt and wounded sore, 

To hear his doom pronounced the Duke they bore. 

How his eyes shone ! While he could hold a spear 
He would not yield. I thrust a bodkin deep 

Into my palfrey's side, and reined her near 
The litter as she bounded. I shall keep 

The look he gave me long as life' may last, 

And it shall warm my grave when life is past ! 

A prison is his guerdon. In his sleep, 

Dreaming of home, he hears the northern sea 

Beat on the walls of Dover's craggy steep ; 
And through his dungeon bars in autumn he 

May see the birds fly south toward Tuskaine, 

And long to follow them, — but long in vain. 



32 CLARIS I NE THE COUNTESS. 

But when his thoughts fly yearning to the south, 
It cannot be to her. He knows her guile ; 

Sure he must hate her false, thin- lipped, pale mouth, 
And shudder thinking on her cruel smile. 

God's blood ! He is no longer hers but mine ; 

We shall be one in death. Toward that I pine ! 



THE BALLAD OF BLOODY ROCK, IZ 



THE BALLAD OF BLOODY ROCK. 

TN that dread book where page by pag( 

God's angel writes from age to age 
All sins and woes, till time assuage, 

This wrong is written, to arise 
Blood red before all waiting eyes 
At that last day of Great Assize. 



High mountain walls the valley close, 

In midst a noble river flows. 

Fed from their crests' eternal snows. 

Far up a mountain side juts bold 

A rocky platform, firm of hold 

By span of stone like drawbridge old. 

Upon its drawbridge, nature's hand 
Of granite hewed, a paltry band 
Might bring an army to a stand. 
3 



34 THE BALLAD OF BLOODY ROCK. 

Thence might a watcher plainly trace 
All the wide valley's smiling face, 
Where the Chumaia had their place. 

A valley where fair rivers flow, 

Where pine-nuts and the wild grain grow. 

And dappled deer dart to and fro. 

Where 'mid the river's rustling reeds 

The water fowl to plumpness feeds, 

An'd to sleek trout shakes down ripe seeds. 

Of California's valleys fair 

None nature with more kindly care 

Did for her children wild prepare. 

Well the Chumaia loved this land, 
Where the Great Spirit held their band 
As in the hollow of his hand. 

Here in the mountain's friendly shade 
Had they their humble wigwams made, 
And here their dusky children played 



THE BALLAD OF BLOODY ROCK. 35 

In peace, with rude and childish game ; 
And life was good ; and but a name 
Misfortune, till the pale-face came. 

And then long years of blood and flame. 
And a black record writ in shame. 
Till the proud tribe was scarce a name ; 

And from a last despairing fight 

A broken remnant took its flight. 

Right crushed beneath the heel of might. 

Wild children of the wilderness, 
Bewildered by their wrongs' excess, 
Bitter beyond human redress, 

They fled through woodland mazes known. 
Save to the beasts, to them alone, 
Since once this forest was their own. 

A broken band they frantic fled 

To Bloody Rock ; and from its head 

Looked downward in despair and dread. 



36 THE BALLAD OF BLOODY ROCK. 

So swift their flight they could not hide 
Their trail ; and up the mountain side 
A band of foemen fierce and tried, 

Like sleuth-hounds tracking down their game, 
Greedy for blood their white foes came, 
With cruel rifles, sure of aim. 

Relentless, pitiless they stood 
Amid the coverts of the wood. 
Grim smiling at their vantage good. 

The leader to the bridge drew near 
And called their foe with bitter jeer, 
His hard alternatives to hear. 

"We have you in a trap,'' his cry; 
" To choose the way that you shall die 
We give you leave. If you defy 

'' Our ofl'er, our guns' skill you know ; — • 
Either to starve in torments slow. 
Or leap to sudden death below." 



THE BALLAD OF BLOODY ROCK. 37 

What madness or what wile of Fate 
Led them to Bloody Rock to wait 
The coming of incarnate hate? 

Its fastness was a fatal snare. 
Prisoned they stood, environed there 
With walls impassable of air ! 

Their choice was that of heroes when 

They chose the leap. They proved them then 

That still were the Chumaia men. 

They locked their hands. In dusky line 
The red men stood, courage divine 
In their stout hearts ; of fear no sign. 

Shrill on the air their death-chant rose, 
And e'en the cold hearts of their foes 
Its anguished wail with horror froze. 

One parting sunbeam redly played, 

Like an accusing finger laid 

On Bloody Rock, as the sun stayed 



38 THE BALLAD OF BLOODY ROCK. 

Its downward course to point the spot 
To God, that He forget it not 
Though all mankind this thing forgot. 

And far below they turned their gaze 
To where the setting sun's long rays 
Shot through the valley's purple haze. 

The valley that had been their world 
Stretched sweet below. Its faint mists curled 
With gleaming jewel tints impearled, 

As fair as Paradise in dreams ; 
From its long interlacing streams, 
Their fevered eyes caught silver gleams. 

Chanting their death-song, weird and high, 
They pierced the air with bitter cry, 
Singing farewell to earth and sky. 

Two score they stood in the red glow, — 

So far the valley lies below 

Its giant oaks like sage- bush show. — 



THE BALLAD OF BLOODY ROCK. 39 

An instant on the verge they hung, 

While yet their quivering death- chant rung, — ^ 

Then to the awful depths they sprung. 

They were and were not, ere the eye 
Could turn aside. Their dying cry 
Hardly outstripped their souls on high. 

Then a great silence ; such as falls 
When human woe the heart appalls, 
And death with awful warning calls. 

The night mists through the valley spread ; 
Dim shadows hid the mountain's head : — 
Darkness and peace were o'er the dead. 



Its finger red the sun lays yet 
On Bloody Rock ere it will set ; 
And paints the cliff as it were wet 
With blood. And God does not forget. 



40 THE POPLARS. 



THE POPLARS. 

TN the blue twilight, all along the shore, 

The poplars stood and watched her as she went, 
And whispered there behind her, though before 
They were so still, save only that they bent 
To peer at what she hid beneath her cloak, 
The burden over which her heart had broke. 

She heard their dreadful whispers each to each. 

Telling her secret, which she came to hide 
Under the sand ; their sinister, low speech 

That thrilled her through. And still the lapsing tide 
Repeated what they said, and cried her shame. 
And the dishonor of her ancient name. 

It had seemed that the very worst to bear 

Would be Ralph's eyes, and the fierce curse of Guy ; 
But now these poplars, standing solemn there. 



THE POPLARS. 4 1 

Seemed to know something worse than these, and high 
Above her head she felt them speak of her 
And hint some awful secret in each stir. 

Shivering she hurried on her bitter way 

To where the tall cliffs overhung the strand ; 
Her burden in their shadow black to lay, 
Hiding it underneath the wave-beat sand. 
When suddenly she stumbled, while her gaze 
Was fixed in horror of a wild amaze. 

She sank down blindly, stricken to the ground, 

Dropping the thing she carried ; and laid bare 
From the dark wrappings which had swathed it round. 
Her dead babe tumbled on the sand. Its fair 
White hand lay like an empty, wave- tossed shell 
Beside a dead man's cheek there where it fell. 

This was the secret that the poplars knew ! 

Standing there silently, what had they seen 
When Ralph and Guy rode homeward? If one slew 
A man there in their sight, with dagger keen, 
Although it was her love they would not move, 
Unless it were to nod, as who approve. 



42 THE POPLARS. 

The whole world whirled around her — save that still 

The poplars in the twilight, gaunt and tall, 
Watched in cold calm as if they had their will. 
She should have known this evil would befall ; 
Now she remembered Ralph's half pitying glance 
And Guy's derisive, baleful look askance ! 

She seemed to see her brothers riding down, 

Their horses' hoof-beats on the treacherous sand 
Too stealthy to give warning ; Ralph afrown 
With bitter sadness, Guy with eager hand 
Already on his dagger, and a smile 
More sharp than curses m its cruel guile. 

She saw her lover turn as he had turned 

That June day at the tourney, when her face 
Across the Hsts had yearned to him, and burned 
The distance from between them till the space 
Vanished away, and they seemed heart to heart. 
Despite the field which held them wide apart. 

How could her knight, taken thus unaware 

Here on the sands, hold out against the twain ? 
She had prayed that they kill her, laying bare 



THE POPLARS. 43 

Her aching bosom to the knife in vain. 

Theif vengeance had been bitterer — to kill 
Her lover and to let her live on still ! 

And yet it seemed the poplars should have stayed 

The dreadful deed ! She sprang up bitterly^ 
And cursed them where they stood. Their tall forms 
swayed 
In the blue twilight, and she heard the sea 
Repeating what they whispered each to each, 
Telling her shame in sinister, low speech. 



44 THE SWALLOW. 



THE SWALLOW. 

T DOFF my hat to the robin, 

And I fling a kiss to the wren, 
The thrush's song sets my heart throbbing, 

For it makes me a child again ; 
But when you wing your airy flight, 

My soul springs up to follow ; 
I would be one with you, and I might, 

For I love you, love you, swallow ! 

I hear the many-voiced chatter 

Under the barn's broad eaves, 
As clear as the rain's blithe patter, 

Or Usp of crisp poplar leaves ; 
I seem to learn the way to be glad. 

Earth's joys no more seem hollow ; 
He who would flee from musings sad 

Should learn to love you, swallow. 



THE SWALLOW. 45 

Your flight is a song that lifts me 

A moment to upper air • 
That with strangest power gifts me 

To buoyantly match you there. 
How high soe'er your course may run, 

My eager thought doth follow ; 
Together we might reach the sun, 

For I love you, love you, swallow ! 



46 REUNION. 



REUNION. 

" Has this been thus before? " 

Rossetti ; " Suddcii Lights 

'T^HIS hath all been before ; and thou and I 

Were all in all unto each other ; 
And yet, when first my eager eye 

In this life on thee fell, keen bliss did smother 
Old memories, till my dull heart deemed 
This our first meeting, as it seemed. 

This shall all be again ; past other deaths 

New futures blest await us, dearest ; 
Though lives shall pass like fleeting breaths, 
In every parting still thou nearest. — 
But sure I must remember, sweet, 
All that has been, when next we meet ! 



THE FINISHED TASK. 47 



THE FINISHED TASK. 

■Y\7'HEN life is done, that it is done, if well. 

Should sure be cause for joy, even to those 
Who o'er their task unfinished see its close 
Through eyes which burn with tears. We may not tell 

By what divine adroitness it befell 

Another wrought so swift the work which shows 
The approving seal of Death, which for repose 

Sends the worn laborer to his strait cell. 

Long is the task of life, though it be wrought 

By dextrous hand and brain divinely keen. 
What end of toil but is with joyance fraught ? 

Why make lament that those whose lives have been 

Most quickly finished will delay for naught. 
But haste from toil to the reward unseen ? 



48 THE RETURN OF THE DEAD. 



THE RETURN OF THE DEAD. 

■fX^'HEN the dead return, 't is not in garments 
ghostly, 
And shapes like those in life they wore ; 
Not as vague phantoms shivering through the case- 
ments, 
Like fugitives from night's dim shore ; 

Not with signs and omens fearful is their commg ; 

No outward sense their forms may mark ; 
To spirit prescience alone their spirits 

Call sweetly from the outer dark. 

When the dead return, 't is as a blest conviction 
That fills like Hght the waiting soul ; 

It is but this ; and like the daylight fading 
It vanishes without control. 



THE RETURN OF THE DEAD. 49 

Yet who has felt this bliss no more can sorrow 

Hold utterly within her sway ; 
He knows how sharp soe'er may be his anguish 

It can endure but for a day ! 



50 AND AFTER 



AND AFTER. 



TITHEN love has been a flower 
One smelled of and laid by, 
Or set in a glass 
Where he useth to pass 
Till it should fade and die ; 
Then one with time forgets it, 

And another flower contents ; 
Or, if he brief regrets it, 

'T is that It pleased his sense. 

When love has been the throbbing 
Of one's own inmost heart ; 
The light of his eyes, 
The breath of his sighs, 
His soul's bliss and its smart ; 
Then love by life is measured. 
Since love and life are one ; 
Together they are treasured. 
Together they are done. 



IN THE LIGHTHOUSE. 



IN THE LIGHTHOUSE. 

'T^HE light in the Hghthouse tower 

Goes round and round and round, 
Like a fiery eye which searches 

For that which is never found ; 
The sea, on the rocks beneath it, 

Calls still for what does not come ; 
While the heart of the lighthouse keeper 

Yearns ever, but ever is dumb. 

The sea-birds dash on the lantern 

And fluttering die in the night, 
In useless, vain endeavor 

To reach the beacon light. 
The winds cry out forever 

For that which no quest may reach ; 
But the keeper's strong desire 

Is far too deep for speech. 



52 IN THE LIGHTHOUSE. 

Night after night in the lantern 

He sets the light aglow; 
Night after night complaining 

He hears the waves below. 
He hears the wind's fierce crying 

And the sea-bird's death-note shrill ; 
But the pain of his love's denial 

He suffers and is still. 



THE GREAT SPHINX. 53 



THE GREAT SPHINX. 

Tl THERE sea and shore locked in a stern embrace, 
Like mighty wrestlers who strain knee and 
thigh 
In mortal combat, a primordial race 

Whose latest memory ages had let die 
Ages agone, builded the Sphinx, to stand 

Watching that strife, impartial and sublime ; 
And on the wave-washed border of the land 
The Sphinx crouched like embodied time. 

Slow inch by inch the land pressed back the sea 

With mighty strain, till the Sphinx' listening ear 
The wave's hoarse roar heard faintly ; steadfastly 

It fought the tides, as year dropped after year 
Like swift sands in the glass. Age followed age 

As in the fervid sun melts morning's rime ; 
And still, eternity its heritage, 

The Sphinx crouched like embodied time. 



54 THE GREAT SPHINX. 

Men came and went ; race after race decayed ; 

Even the stars grew old, till here and there 
One paled and died ; a late-come people stayed 

To pile the pyramids, ere they should fare 
To tombs whose very stones are dust ; the gods 

Themselves fell from their many-templed prime ; 
While still in watchfulness nor sleeps nor nods^ 

The Sphinx crouched like embodied time. 

Farther away the battle fared, the shore 

Still straining every thew against the tide ; 
Till wide plains fertile lay where wide of yore 

The bitter water stretched but might not bide. 
Amid its sheen of emerald and gold 

A small stream crept, bred, like an asp, in sHme ; 
Watching the new-born Nile wax broad and old, 

The Sphinx crouched like embodied time. 

And men forgot the races who of eld 
Had in their turn forgotten that the sea 

Once laved the Sphinx's feet. Calm it beheld 
Monarchs arise, and reign, and cease to be ; 

Proud cities like mirages rise and fall ; 

Peace marred by war and virtue crossed with crime 



THE GREAT SPHINX. 55 

And wisdom stained with folly; seeing all 
The Sphinx crouched like embodied time. 

And all the golden glory of the East 

Waxed 'round it till one matchless woman bloomed, 
Its perfect flower ; then swift as it increased 

Waned Egypt's greatness, in its flower doomed. 
Stealthy as its own lioness, the waste 

Pressed ever forward ; but with front sublime 
x\nd motionless regard its bound'ry traced 

The Sphinx, crouched like embodied time. 

The sand waves beat its feet as once the brine. 

But moved it not ; the hot, dry billows pressed 
Up to its throat, and. could no more; divine 

It stayed their ravage with its stony breast. 
Till sea and desert be no more, it stands 

In solitude superb, unmatched in age or clime ; 
Changeless as fate, while men waste like the sands. 

The Sphinx waits like embodied time. 



56 BY THE SEA. 



BY THE SEA. 

r^ LITTERS the water with myriad stars 

That but flash as they flee ; 
Crossed is the heaven with milky bars, 

While, a russet band, 

The hne of the land 
Cuts the pale blue sky from the steely sea. 

Boats hurry by with the sun on their sails 

And the foam on their lee ; 
Yet all their speed as nothing avails 

To match the swift flight 

Of the fleet gulls, white 
'Gainst tne pale blue sky and the steely sea. 

Over the waves of a creek far remote, 

Like a dim memory. 
Steals some dark Indian in birchen boat ; 

And his bright blade dip3 

Like a meteor that slips 
From the pale blue sky to the steely sea. 



NIGHT SONG. 57 



NIGHT SONG. 

T STOLE along through the dark, 

And I trembled for who might hear, 
As I followed the casement's spark 
That guided me to my dear. 

For I thrill with such rapturous pain, 

And the languor of keenest desire, 
To revive in thy smile again, 

And to glow with thy kisses^ fire ! 

The roses quivered with love 

Till their dew-wet petals fell, 
As I watched the dim lattice above 
For the signal I knew so well ; 

But the sweet, dusky night wastes away, 
And my love is allfei^vor and flame ; 
Oh, awake ei-e the moon betray, — 

Canst thou sleep when I murmur thy name ! 



58 POPE JOHN XXIII. 



POPE JOHN XXIII. 

[BALTHAZAR COSSA.] 

T"! 71X11 bare feet brown as the dust he trod, 

He trudged toward Rome his sturdy way j 
The while in childish treble shrill 
He trolled the ritornella gay : 
" Oh, flower of the broom. 
How fleeting is youth's bloom ! 

•'And whither goest?" asked shepherd folk. 

Toward Rome he nodded curl-crowned head. 
•" And what wouldst thou with Rome? " they cried. 
''I shall be Pope," he said. 
Oh, flower of the heath, 
What shall abash youth's faith? 

The soil of Rome is foul and rich, 

And fast grows what is sown therein ; 
Page, soldier, intriguer was he, — 



POPE JOHN XX in. 59 

Then was he priest absolving sin. 
Oh, flower of the rose, 
How oft with youth faith goes ! 

By ways of guile and ways of force, 

He rose the scarlet hat to wear ; 
Did he remember how he came 

With curl-crowned head and brown feet bare? 
Oh, flower of the thyme, 
What memories crowd life's prime ! 

Then the tiara crowned his head ; 
An emperor held his bridle-rein, 
Barefooted walking at his side ; 
And nobles sued for grace in vain. 
Oh, flower of the grass. 
Yet swiftly all things pass ! 

In pride and power he waxed, as if 

There were no end to rule and place ; 
Then death's hand touched him, and he got 
For all his might delay nor grace. 
Oh, flower of the quince. 
Forsooth, how fares he since? 



6o 



GUILT. 



GUILT. 

/^NCE in a dream, meseemed I fell 

Upon my foe and slew him ; then 
Standing beside his corse, felt swell 
Remorse so keen I waked again. 

^•' It was a dream, my soul is clear," 
I said, '' since he is living yet." 

'' Not so," my soul cried ; " guilt is here 
While you that he escaped regret ! " 



ENCOUNTER. 6i 



ENCOUNTER. 

'T^WO spirits swirled along the vast, 

Meeting, each other clutched in fear 
While each his woe outbreathed, aghast 
The other's bitter plaint to hear. 

^' Alas ! " one mourned, ^^ from bridal bliss 
Death tore me, newly wed this morn." 

The other wailed : " Far worse than this 
My pain ; I hasten to be born ! " 



62 WHEN FIRST LOVE COMES. 



WHEN FIRST LOVE COMES. 

(RONDEAU.) 

Y\7HEN first love comes, this stranger guest 
Youth Httle knows, as in his breast 

Keen thrills he feels, half bliss, half pain. 

Yet not for worlds would he again 
Return to the old quiet blessed. 

Such pleasure dwells in this unrest, 
This ecstasy he counts the best 
Of all life's savors sweet or vain, 
When first love comes. 

And still with longing unrepressed 
Backward does age look, dispossessed, 
When of youth's fervors none remain 
And all its gracious hopes are slain ; 
Remembering with sighs life's zest 
When first love comes. 



SLEEP, 63 



SLEEP. 



/^H, Sleep, how soft thy kiss ; how cool and sweet 
The touch of thy pale hand upon the brow 
That throbs with pain. All else grows old ; but thou 
Art ever young. He who pursued thee fleet 

In youth's hot flush, no less before thy feet 
In palsied age a suppliant comes to bow. 
To thee, though thus forsworn, love pays its vow ; 

Thy kiss consoles the vanquished for defeat, 

And is best bliss the conqueror obtains. 

Night shows the sorrowing one thy sflken tent, 
And in thine arms doth he forget his pains. 

Though fortune frown, refusing to relent. 

If thou art kind, the best of life remains. 
And we despair only when from thee rent. 



64 



SLEEP. 



II 



So dear thou art, so passing sweet and fair, 
Not even Egypt's dusky queen had spell 
Potent as thine— or schemed with wiles as fell ! 

How prodigal the heart thou dost ensnare ! 

How dearly buy we each endearment rare ; 
How lavishly for every kiss we tell 
Its price in golden time sands, knowing well 

The bitter poverty that we must bear. 

We give thee all that is, all that may be, 

All that has been, nor once the price regret, 
Since worthless were it all bereft of thee. 

We know thee cruel as the grave, and yet 

Our love pour out as lavish as the sea, 
Since none save thee can teach us to forget ! 



FROM A SKETCH-BOOK. 65 



FROM A SKETCH-BOOK. 

AFTER THE STORM. 

/^VER the green and purple bay 

Like eager gulls the white crests flock ; 
Like wild gray falcon, bent on prey, 

The fleet boat speeds and spreads dismay. 
Till they rush to death on the shore's black rock. 



A SUNSET. 

The lighthouse floats on the milky sea. 

As if it were hung in air ; 
The setting sun all crimson flames, 

While, unwarmed by its glare. 
The moon sails high 

In the dimming sky, 
Of every cloud-fleck bare. 
5 



66 FROM A SKETCH-BOOK. 



THE CLIFF. 

Peaked, el)on ledges, with shining spray powdered, 
Showers of pearls from some Titan's great hands ; 
Cliffs gray and sombre, and gaunt forests spectral ; 
\\'hite gulls like memories of far-away lands. 



A SOUTHERN SUNSET. 

The palmettoes tall against a sky 

Of saffron and rose and pearl 
Stand as if cut from jade. The shadows lie 

About their feet, where black roots curl 
Like water- snakes that writhe and coil 
Out of the water thick and smooth as oil. 

With eyes hand-shaded looks the quadroon girl 
Across the lake's smooth sheen, bespread 
With faint reflected clouds of gray and red ; 
While like the spirit of the coming night 
The heron wings on high his sullen flight. 



FROM A SKETCH-BOOK. 67 

AN AFTERNOON. 

So blue the sea that all the sky looks pale, 
And white as snow the fleet yacht's rounded sail ; 
And white as snow along the black reef's line 
The breaker's curling edges gleam and shine \ 
While dark against the sky, against the bay, 
The gnarled boughs of a tall pine writhe and sway. 



NIGHTFALL. 

In red and brown the sun goes dqwn, 
In crimson cloud and sombre rack ; 

A crescent moon, new-born since noon, 
The smooth sea mirrors back. 



UNDER THE RIOON. 

The wavelets edge themselves with flame 
As the dark tide turns to flow 

In molten silver under the moon, 
Over the sands of snow : 



68 FROM A SKETCH-BOOK. 

As if the seething sea in rage 
Foamed with a spume of fire 

Thus to be baffled by the land, 
Burning in futile ire. 



OFF IRELAND. 

Rocks furred with the velvety heather 
As brown as the dun deer's horns in the spring ; 
Where the sea-birds, like bees in June weather 
'J 'hat hum 'round the hive, on untiring wing 
Hover in clouds of gray ; 

While far below. 
The wavering line of spray 
Rims the cliff's foot with snow, 
Where restless waves their foam-wreaths fling. 
And isle and ocean melt together. 



THE INSCRUTABLE SEA. 

Flashes innumerous come and go, 
Teasing the sun-god burning for love's blisses, 
As the sea warmed with ardor to his kisses : 



FROM A SKETCH-BOOK. 69 

Yet on their way remorseless down below 
Sweep the fell currents with untiring motion^ 

Hid by the sparkles which bewitching glow, 
The Mona Lisa smile of the ocean. 



A MARCH DAY. 

A single boat lies on the glass-smooth bay. 

As gray the water as spun flax ; and gray 
The sky as smoke ; and gray as moss-grown stone 
Crumbling on some old grave, forgot and lone, 
The shore and boat and tree. 
The stretches of beaches, 
The long sandy reaches, 
The wavering dunes, and the wide, windy sea. 



70 HA RUN. 



HARUN. 



A BU, the sage, master among the wise, 
Said to his pupil, Harun : 

'' To their end 
Flow all my years. When death shall close my eyes, 
To thee my mantle and my rule descend. 

" In token of thy mission shall be thine 

Three wishes. See that thou art wise in choice, 

That thou the very heart of truth divine, 

Since thou must teach when dust hath choked my 
voice." 

''Master," quoth Harun, ''be first boon to stand 
In thought upon the farthest star man's sight 

May eager reach when, on the desert's sand, 
His vision yearns through the abyss of night " 

The master bowed assent. Straightway a trance 
Wrapped Harun's sense, passed him and left him 
free. 



HARUN. 71 

" What sawest thou? " asked Abu. 

" The advance 
Of mote-thick stars down the mimensity." 

The master smiled. 

"Thy second boon," he said. 

" In thought to stand upon that star the last 
My vision conquered." 

Abu bent his head ; 
This too was granted, and the vision passed. 

''What sawest thou?" 

" As thick as dust when high 

By the simoon the desert sands are swirled, 
The stars hang in the void, far as the eye 

Could pierce the gloom, each one a perfect world." 

''Thy third wish?" Abu said. 

" Once more to look 
From that last star which trembled, far and dim, 
Upon my vision's utmost verge." 

Scarce shook 
The master's beard of snow, ere unto him 



72 HA RUN. 

This too had come, — and passed. With eyes as quick 

As youthful lover's, set 'neath brows of snow, 
Still Abu asked : 

" What sawest thod ? " 

" Stars thick 
As thoughts of mortals which no number know 

" Reach on down the illimitable dread." 

" Now of the boon that thou hast reached the span, 
What hast thou gained? " 

"The secret," Harun said; 
" The heart of truth, — the nothingness of man ! " 



A REMINISCENCE. 73 



A REMINISCENCE. 

TN that time, ten centuries back, 
When I was an Eastern king, 
I was weary of Hfe for lack 

Of a love that could comfort bring. 

And a girl with breath like nard. 
With sleek, long limbs, and eyes 

Which glowed like the eyes of a pard 
In the jungle that drowsy lies, 

Came and danced in the torches' glow 
Till once more there was savor in life ; 

And my sluggish blood had the flow 
Of youth with its passionate strife. 

When the irksomeness of to-day 

Seems more than my soul can endure. 

On a sudden the time melts away. 
And my heart, like a hawk to its lure, 



74 A REMINISCENCE. 

Flies back to that night long past, 
In the centuries set like a star; 

For a moment I hold her fast, 
In that antique world afar. 

I feel her warm, sweet breath 
And her burning lips on mine, 

And the fluttering heart which death 
Has scattered in dust on the wind. 

A moment — and then to-day 
Comes back all dull and stale ; 

As the vision fades away 

Like the breath of a finished tale. 

And if I shall find her again 
In the centuries yet to see. 

Who knoweth ; or if in vain 
Forever my quest must be ? 



THE ADVANCE. 75 



THE ADVANCE. 

\X7ITH the thunder of legions the army advances, 
With hoarse clangor of trumpets and clamor 
of drums ; 
With hot prancing of horses and glancing of lances, 

And with wild, tingling bugle-notes onward it comes ! 
Who remembers his babes at his wife's knee soft 
prattling. 
Or who sighs that afar weeps his mother white-haired. 
Now that empty of steel every scabbard is rattling 
And with glitter foreboding each sword flashes 
bared ! 

There was yesterday love, there '11 be fame for to- 
morrow — 
But to-day there is neither ; the need of the hour 
Has o'erwhelmed all beside, and nor pleasure nor 
sorrow 
Nor the heart's dearest hope now has meaning or 
power. 



^6 THE ADVANCE. 

It is but the mad zeal to beat down yonder foemen 
Now possesses all souls as a flame wraps a pyre ; 

That now thrills every fibre of leaders and yeomen, 
With a wild, awful rage in which mingles no ire. 

Men no longer are men, but of one force gigantic 
Is each warrior a part, yearning forward to slay ; 
As resistless the tide sweeps the mighty Atlantic 

Sweep the columns along on their blood-flooded way. 
And the blare of the trumpets, with clash of arms 
vying, 
Shrieks on high for a carnage shall glut e'en Death's 
maw; 
While the cries of the trampled, turned human in 
dying. 
Fall on ears deaf to prayers, — for, oh, God ! this 
is war I 



LOVE IS A KNAVE. I^J 



LOVE IS A KNAVE. 

RONDEAU. 

T OVE is a knave ; he plucks a rose 

Or twines a curl, — and toys like this 
He spreads to snare fond hearts ; he knows 
How little else than light breath goes 
To vows and bubbles both, I wis. 

The most bewitching airs he blows 

On sweet-voiced pipes ; while promised bliss, 
Pledged with no sure fruition, shows 
Love is a knave. 

Sweet, to deprive us of repose. 

Love weaves his schemes ; but, naught amiss, 
We laugh to scorn his threatened woes, 

And cry, with warmest clasp and kiss, 
*' Love is a knave ! " 



78 PULPIT ROCK. 



PULPIT ROCK. 



TTTHEN the tide comes in, cooing and wooing 
sweet 

With soft, fond kisses in the summer noon. 
And lays largess of treasures at its feet, 

Sea-wrack and shells and every gracious boon 
Love can devise — passionless and austere 
The gray rock stands, and will not see or hear. 

When the tide comes in in wrath of winter 
night, 

Beating with giant hands, and shouting hoarse 
Like viking in berserker rage, and might 

Of all the whirlwinds rushing from their source — 
Untouched alike by anger or by fear. 

Steadfast the rock abides the tempest drear. 



PULPIT ROCK. 79 

Well were it for the heart unmoved to brave 
The bitter storms of fate which fierce assail ; 

To see the welkin darken with the wave 
Over its head, yet steadfast to prevail ; — 

But better be fate's slave, than cold and dumb 

When love's sweet tides in fond persuasion come ! 



So TO A SLIPPER. 



TO A SLIPPER. 



T17HEN my great-great-great-grandmamma 

Was but a maid of sweet sixteen, 
This slipper, faded now and frayed, 
Was hers in pride of satin sheen. 

'T hath danced in stately minuet. 

And as it twinkled in and out 
Beneath her brocade petticoat 

'T hath tortured many a heart, no doubt. 

It hath a high, unsteady heel. 
And such a piquant, pointed toe. 

That with, a strangely mincing gait, 

She must have been constrained to go. 

Yet I doubt not her powdered hair 
And glancing eyes accorded well 

With these same marionette -like steps. 
And made her lovers' bosoms swell. 



TO A SLIPPER. 8 1 

My dear great- great-great- grandmamma 
Long since was clothed in heavenly guise ; 

For 'spite this slipper frivolous 

She walked this world in godly wise. 

And as she strays through Paradise 
With golden sandals, jewelled clear, 

Sure she must smile, if she recall 
This slipper that she danced in here. 



82 IN TULIPEE. 



IN TULIPEE. 

A X /"HEN the pulse of spring stirs in the blood 

And blithe birds northward soar ; 
When bough and heart begin to bud, 
Though old they be, and hoar ; 
'T is then, in the hush which morning brings, 
A sound long gone in memory rings ; 
As of old I listening seem to be 
To the tinkling mule bells of Tulipee. 

When the morning star begins to fade, 

And day's pink finger-tips 
On the edge of Heaven's gate are laid, 
Before she through it sHps, — 
'T is then the mule-bells ringing clear 
My inner sense so well can hear ; 
Till again the palm-girt walls I see 
Where winds the road through Tulipee. 

There was one palm bent like a bow 
That leaned above a wall. 



IN TULIPEE. Zt^ 

That its long shadow, moving slow, 

To tell the hours let fall ; 
And one knew when it reached so far 
Would Nina take her water-jar 

Down to the fountain gurgling free 

By the river Lisa in Tulipee. 

A line of shapes in the morning dim 

Went the muleteers their way 
To where on the broad bay's silver rim 
The city waiting lay ; 
And as under my lattice they passed along 
Each morn I waked to hear their song, 
For it seemed a message to bring to me 
From her nest they passed in Tulipee. 

Oh, long are the years have fled since then, 

And cold are the skies above ; 
Little this sombre north doth ken 

Of the zest of a tropic love. 
But when spring comes, I glow again 
With the old time fires of bUss and pain ; 

All life hath left I would give to be 

Young, and with Nina in Tulipee ! 



«4 A FLOWER CYCLE. 



A FLOWER CYCLE. 



To G. W. C. 



THE CROCUS. 



"O RAVE crocus, out of time and rash, 

You come when skies are all amort and chill ; 
Too soon to find how cruel hail can dash, 
And bitter winds can kill. 

You are like early loves, most sure, 
Which die so soon in this world's nipping air ; 
Your mission like to theirs, — not to endure, 
But to make springtime fair. 



II. 

THE TRILLIUMS. 

Wake, robin ! Wake, robin ! " the trilliums call, 
Though never a word they say ; 



A FLOWER CYCLE. 85 

Wake, robin! Wake, robin!" while bud-sheaths 

fall. 
And violets greet the day. 

The soft winds bring the spring again. 

The days of snow are done ; 
The stir of life 's in every vein, 

And warmly shines the sun. 

The trillium stars are white as milk. 

They beckon as they swing ; 
The trillium's leaves are soft as silk, 

They make the robins sing. 

Soon all the hill and all the dale 

Shall once again be gay ; 
When trilliums from the tree-set vale 

Open their cups to-day. 

Wake, robin ! Wake, robin ! " the trilliums cry. 

Though never a sound they make ; 
Wake, robin ! W^ake, robin ! " till wings whir by. 

And robins sing for their sake. 



86 A FLOWER CYCLE. 

III. 

THE WATER LILY. 

Where the dark waters lave, 
Where the tall rushes wave, 
Safe from rude winds that rave, 

Floats the fair lily ; 
White as my sweetheart's breast, 
Pure as her dreamings blest, 
Lying in cradled rest, 

When night is stilly. 

Oft wooing comes the bee 
On light wings eagerly, 
Leaving the pleasant lea 

Luscious with clover ; 
Then to her heart of gold, 
'Mid petals half unrolled, 
Fond doth the lily fold 

The amorous rover. 

Sweetheart, within thine arms 
Fold me with all thy charms, 



A FLOWER CYCLE. 87 

Safe from more rude alarms 

Than thy heart's beating. 
Let the sweet Hly be 
Emblem for thee and me ; 
Be thou as kind as she 

In thy fond greeting ! 

IV. 

THE WILD- BRIAR. 

The wild-briar dabbles his finger-tips 

In the wine till they are red ; 
Then over the hedge he climbs and slips, 
And kisses the wild rose on the lips 

Till blushing she bows her head. 

The wild-briar clambers from spray to spray, 

For an ardent wooer he ; 
But once he has won, he hastes away, 
Nor tears nor prayers avail to stay 

His fickle fancy free. 

The wild-briar riots the thicket through, 
Like a wanton, lusty faun ; 



A FLOWER CYCLE. 

He strings for the cedar berries blue. 
He vows to the alder homage true, 
He sighs to woo the dawn ! 

For the fire of love and the fire of youth 

Fill his veins with zest divine ; 
Till winter has seized him without ruth, 
And thickets are bare ; oh, then, in sooth, 
He longs for spring's glad wine ! 



THE COLUMBINE. 

Gay in her red gown, trim and fine, 
Dances the merry columbine. 

Never she thinks if her petals shall fall ; 

Cold rains beating she does not dread ; 
Sunshine is round her and spring birds call. 
Blue are the skies above her head. 
So in her red gown, trim and fine, 
Merrily dances the columbine. 

Blithe with her white throat, smooth and fine, 
Dances the careless columbine. 



A FLOWER CYCLE 89 

If she coquets with the wandering bee, 

When he goes does she toss her head ; 
Heart-whole and froHcsome still is she, 
Lovers enough she finds instead. 
So with her white throat smooth and fine. 
Carelessly dances the columbine. 

Bright in her coronet, golden and fine, 
Dances the mocking columbine. 
Gay is she still, whatsoever befall, 

Loveless wanton, on pleasure bent ; 
Now is her moment, her day, her all ; — 
Where will she be when it is spent? 
Then will be dust all her coronet fine ; 
Dust, only dust, mocking columbine. 



VI. 

THE FOXGLOVE. 

In grandmamma's garden in shining rows. 
The box smells sweet as it trimly grows ; 
The sun-dial quaint the hours tells, 
'Mid foxgloves tall with spotted bells ; . 



<)0 A FLOWER CYCLE. 

And all is dear, and all is fair, 

As childhood's self had dwelling there. 

In grandmamma's garden a child I played 
With naught save bees to make afraid ; 
I counted the spots on the foxglove's cheek, 
And knew it could tell, if it would but speak, 
How cunning fairies painted them 
And made each like a shining gem. 

In grandmamma's garden the foxgloves gay 
• With every wind would nod and sway ; 
Full well I knew that they were wise. 
And watched with childhood's eager eyes 
To see them whisper each to each, 
And catch the secrets of their speech. 

In grandmamma's garden still I walk. 
And still the foxgloves seem to talk. 
Their speech not yet my manhood learns, 
But when I see them youth returns ; 
I wonder at them still in vain, — 
But with them am a child again. 



A FLOWER CYCLE. 91 

VII. 

THE CARDINAL FLOWER. 

When days are long and steeped in sun 
The brown brooks loiter as they run, 
And lingering eddy as they flow 
Full loth to leave the meadows low ; 
For then the cardinal, ablaze 
With splendid fires, their fancy stays. 

Like a tall Indian maiden, dressed 
In scarlet robes, with tranquil breast 

That ne'er has known love's humbling thrall 

But haughty queens it over all, 
The flower her image mirrored throws, 
While proud as beautiful she glows. 

She sees the speckled trout dart by, 
And swift- winged flit the dragon-fly 

Over the brook's smooth waters dun ; 

Naught doth she heed them, all or one ; 
Even the sun-god when he woos 
With proud indifference she views. 



92 A FLO WE J^ CYCLE. 

The saucy swallow darts athwart 

The topaz brook, but wins him naught 

Of notice from the haughty queen. 

Wrapped in her beauteous self, serene 
She dwells alone, untouched by praise. 
Through the brief splendor of her days. 



VIII. 

THE LUPINE. 

Ah, lupine, with silvery leaves 

And blossoms blue as the skies, 
I know a maid like thee, 

And blue, too, are her eyes. 
Gray as a nun's her dress ; 
How lowly, 
And holy 
Her mien, cannot mere words express. 

Fair lupine, tlie dew-drop shines 
A gem night gives to thee ; 

So pure her radiant soul 
Within her breast must be. 



A FLOWER CYCLE. 93 

Like thee, she dwells alone ; 

All sweetness, 

And meetness, 
As in thyself in her are known. 

Ah, lupine, I pluck thy bloom, 

But how her grace may I win? 
So pure, so fair, is she 

My suit may not begin 
Unless I send thy flower 
To prove her, 
And move her, 
Me with her priceless love to dower ! 



IX. 

THE MEADOW RUE. 

The tall white rue stands like a ghost 
That sighs for days departed, 

Ere life's woes gathered like a host 
And sorrow's tears had started. 

And 't is, oh, to be a child again 
Where meadow brooks are playing. 



94 A FLOWER CYCLE. 

Where the long grass nods with sound hke rain 
To south wind through it straying ! 

Oh, the rue grows tall and fair to see ; 
Sweet ' herb of grace ' and memory. 

The white rue trembles as it stands, 

As if some spirit seeing, 
As if it yearned toward unseen hands — 

Some loved one near, but fleeing. 
And 't is, oh, to taste lost youth once more, 

When well-loved lips were meeting ; 
When the heart was light that now is sore, 

Nor dreamed love's bliss is fleeting. 
Oh, the rue grows tall and fair to see ; 
Sweet ' herb of grace ' and memory. 



X. 

THE JASMINE. 

The soft, warm night wind flutters 

Up from the dim lagoon, 
W^hile the timorous shadows hide them 

From the red new-risen moon ; 



A FLO WE I^ CYCLE. 95 

The scent of the jasmine Hngers 

Like a languorous pain divine, 
Till the night- moth reels in its fragrance, 

Drunken as if with wine. 
Oh, jasmine fair ; 
Oh, southern night most rare ! 

The warm air beats with passion 

As some hot bosom throbs, 
While an amorous night-bird murmurs. 

As its bliss found vent in sobs ; 
The breath of the jasmine pulses. 

It comes and goes on the wind ; 
Could one cHmb o'er its lattice 

What bhss might he not find ! 
Oh, jasmine blest ; 
What dreams of cradled rest ! 

A spark from the casement flickers, 
And touches the jasmine's bloom, 

Till the blossoms glow like star gems 
As they gleam in the fragrant gloom. 

I know not what breath from their chalice 
Has stirred my soul like wine, 



96 A FLOWER CYCLE. 

Till I reel like the drunken night- moth 
With love's keen pain divine. 
Oh, jasmine sweet, 
Why speeds the night so fleet? 



XI. 

THE PURPLE ASTER. 

When the brown birds take flight and hot summer is 
over, 

When leaves fall fluttering down from the trees, 
When the sweet flowers fade, and the bee, wanton 
rover, 

Safe hid at home takes his honey- fed ease ; 
Then comes all alone, and unmindful of summer. 

The stanch purple aster, with goodliest cheer ; 
And blithe is the heart of the sturdy late comer 

That blooms all alone in the bleak of the year. 

With its messages brave all the lorn meadows cheering, 

It lifts its chalices up to the sky ; 
As in promises sure that the chill winter nearing, 

Must yield its sway to the spring by-and-by. 



A FLOWER CYCLE. 97 

Its heart is of gold, and sweet faith is the burden 
Its blossoming teaches when hope seems to flee ; 

Small love or reward does it win as its guerdon, 

Yet fails not its cheer though the skies clouded be. 

When the shrill, merry horn of the hunter is sounding. 

And hounds are baying from valley to hill ; 
When the hot, panting stag in his flight hurries 
bounding. 

While speeds the hunt with a turbulent will ; 
Then the frosts come at night, and the aster drops 
slowly 

Its pale, purple petals, like flakes, one by one ; 
Till all its brave beauty lies scattered and lowly, 

And shrivels to dust 'neath the cold autumn sun. 



98 FRAGRANCE. 



FRAGRANCE. 

A FANTASIA. 

"^OT all the sensuousness of melting sound 

Can move our being as sweet fragrancies 
Steal with insinuations delicate 
Into the mind. The lute's low melody, 
Plaintive as love ; the organ's reverent tone ; 
The horn's inspiring blast ; the wild appeal 
Of hautboys sentient of all life's deep pain ; 
The eager clamor of the drum's fierce beat ; 
Touch, thrill, or rouse, yet leave us still ourselves. 

But who has breathed the scent of violets 
And not that moment been some lover glad 
That to his love is clasped in heavenly kiss ; 
Who smelled the earth new turned, and not a space 
Been the blithe husbandman robust and free ; 
Who drunk the perfume of the ripening grape 
Like wine, nor straightway felt himself a god ? 



FRAGRANCE. 99 

All memories, or sad or piercing sweet, 
Come on the wings of fragrance ; all desire 
Wakes at its bidding with resistless stress ; 
Old dreams are in its keeping ; youth and love 
Wait on its will, and not the thoughts which serve 
Their sweet behests move with more subtile law, 
Swifter or more mysteriously. 

The sea 
Sends its compelling message on the wind 
In scent of brine, and who may say it nay. 
The woods their odors balsamic breathe out 
As slow swung censers all the minster fill 
With fume of incense, and who strays therein 
Forgets the world and fame and love and gold. 
The sudden breath of some old fragrance long 
Remembered, our lost youth gives back again ; 
And only by this mystic alchemy 
Is the past from its ashes recreate. 

What song of siren, over the hushed waves 
Persuasive wooing to the yearning ear 
Of mariners long storm-tossed, wins his sense 
Like wafts of perfume from some isle of spice, 



lOO FRAGRANCE. 

Seductive telling of groves dimly lit 
With green light filtered through dark cassia boughs, 
And honeyed hushes 'twixt the birds' low lays? 
Of more delights than sense can speak they hint ; 
And weary wanderings on the bitter brine, 
The toilsome oar, the stinging wind, the wave 
Insatiate hounding down its cowering prey, 
Are all forgotten in that luring spell. 

What ecstasy of sense is like to that 

One breathes in walking through the bosky way 

Of the fresh woods in June? Odor of pines. 

The heavy sweetness which the barberi-y pours, 

And the divine aroma of the bloom 

Of wild grapes matted o'er some rustic wall, 

Or eglantine, mingling its spicy smell 

With that of luscious honeysuckle horns. 

What vague romances old flit through the brain 
When on the air rich scents are shaken out 
From Orient stuffs wrought with dull gold and silks 
Dim with a hundred hues. All the fair time 
Of great Alraschid seems to live again. 



FRAGRANCE. lo 

And dreams are real. Was not that sound the note 

Of flutes contending with the nightingale? 

Did not a signal taper's welcome spark 

A moment from the loved one's lattice gleam? 

Something there is more sublimate in scent 
Than in aught else of which our earthly sense 
Has cognizance. It trembles on the line 
Which marks where spirit doth with matter blend. 
Angels might talk with fragrancies for speech 
As we with sounds ; and truth so deep and high 
^Vords cannot compass it, might be outbreathed 
In perfumes, had we gift to understand. 

Here an uncomprehended mystery, 

There may be worlds where, its deep secret guessed, 

It is the key which shall make all things plain ! 



I02 DEATH AND LOVE. 



DEATH AND LOVE. 

/^"\NCE Death in malice cruel sought to slay 
Love the immortal, and with poison dart 
Smote down a bright-winged cherub in my heart ; 
And came in glee again upon a day 

To gloat above the corse, and mocking say ; 

'' Aha ! how desolate and lone thou art ! 

Where is the balm shall ease thee of this smart? 
Rise up, and make a grave and there Love lay." 

And I, for answer, bade him turn and gaze 

Where in my heart, as in a hallowed shrine, 
Sat Love in deathless state. With sore amaze. 

He cried, *' I surely slew this god of thine ! " 

" Love cannot die," I said. *' It lives always. 
Thy stroke slew Passion, but not Love divine ! " 



BEREA VEMENT. ^ ^3 



BEREAVEMENT. 

T IKE a star that on water wind-vexed 
-^ Its tremulous image has thrown, 
So over my soul, grief-perplexed. 
Thy radiant presence has shone. 

But as clouds shut the stars from man's sight 
Has death closed between us. Below 

Surge the billows in blackness of night. — 
Of the star lost to view who may know? 



I04 THE LOVE OF THE DEAD. 



THE LOVE OF THE DEAD. 

Yl TOFUL and desolate beyond all word 

A ghost bent o'er her sleeping child ; 
With mother-passion all her being stirred 

To bear it on her breast through Noland wild. 

But by the child the father slumbering lay, 
And her name murmured in his sleep. 

With bitter moan she turned and fled away ; 
A double loss she could not make him weep. 



THE SPHINX. 105 



THE SPHINX. 



A GES unsolved my question waits 

A nobler race with broader span ; 
My riddle CEdipus guessed not, 
He but rephrased it — " man." 

A higher race the doubt must solve 
As man of brute or plant doth learn ; 

As brute to man, so man to these 
Who shall the secret's core discern. 

Till then unmoved I silent brood 
With smile half pity and half scorn j 

With cold contempt I see men die, 
But pity wakes when men are born. 



io6 CHOPIN" S NOCTURNE IN G MINOR. 



CHOPIN'S NOCTURNE IN G MINOR. 

■pAINT through the twilight hazes 

Shimmers one palpitant star ; 
Faint through the woodland mazes 
The Angelus sounds afar. 

Only the brook's murmur golden 

Falls on the wanderer's ear ; 
Voices of memories olden 

The soul holds breath to hear. 

Voices of joy and sorrow 

Vanished and far away 
As the dawn of the sun-bathed morrow 

Seems from this dying day, 

When faint through the twilight hazes 
Shimmers eve's palpitant star; 

And faint through the woodland mazes 
The Angelus dies afar. 



A SONG OF TOKENS. 107 



A SONG OF TOKENS. 



VITHEN the spring on the hills sets her sandaled 
feet lightly 
And with honeyed breath hastens the wasting of 
snows, 
Amid thickets where lately the frost stars shone 
brightly 
There a flower all peerless awakens and grows. 
The cold memory of drifts and the promise of summer 
Are commingled to one in the lovely new comer, 
Till in union of snows and of rose the spring knows 
How her own splendid flower the kalmia blows. 



II. 

When the summer in state hides her pulse's hot 
tingling 
Under robes of rich verdure and jewel-like sheen. 



io8 A SONG OF TOKENS, 

When her pride and her passion upbound in their 

mingUng, 
Is the sign of her mood in a flower still seen. 
From the cool brooks it rises, and burns 'mid the 

rushes 
Like a flame springing upward to outsoar the thrushes. 
All love's poignant, fierce pain, sweet and vain, bliss 

and bane. 
In the cardinal summer embodies amain. 



III. 

When the autumn sits pensive, and calls back with 
sighing 
All the dear lost delights of the days that are dead. 
Half unconscious she weaves from the hues that are 
dying 
On the hill and the lake, one last wreath for her 
head. 
Of faint purple and gold are the blossoms she chooses. 
For the hope that she holds and the joy that she loses ; 
And the first frosts surprise her with eyes where tears 

rise. 
While a garland of asters upon her brow dies. 



A SONG OF TOKENS. IO9 



IV. 

When the winter comes slowly with footsteps that 

linger 
All along the lone way where his loved ones have 

trod, 

Not one blossom or bud does his chill, numbing finger 

Set to shine upon bush or the meadow's brown sod. 

Far too deep is his grief to be shown by such token, 

And he covers from sight all his hopes fond and 

broken ; 
For when grief is most deep, then must weeping still 

steep 
The sad soul, till to silence at last death adds sleep. 



no A MAN'S REPROACH. 



A MAN'S REPROACH. 

TX7HEN into my life you came 

You gave me no promise, yet still 
Dare I charge on you the shame 
Of a pledge you have failed to fulfil. 

Said not each tone of your voice, 
Said not each look of your eye, 

" Measure my truth at your choice ; 
No means of proof I deny " ? 

Was it for nothing your glance 
Held itself, flame pure, to mine? 

Needed there speech to enhance 
The strength of its promise divine? 

Was there no pledge in that smile, 

Dazzling beyond all eclipse? 
Only God measures your guile 

When you could lie with those lips ! 



A MAN'S REPROACH. iii 

You fail me, in spite of it all, 

And smile that no promise you break. 

No word you have need to recall ; 
Your self is the vow you forsake ! 



112 



A BIRTH-CHANCE. 



A BIRTH-CHANCE. 

P^ WOMAN lay in travail, 

While the candle by her bed 
Burned down toward its socket ; 
And Fate, with fine smile, said : 

'• If the candle live to light him 

Let the boy's life joyful be ; 
But let him be born to sorrow 

If its gleam he do not see." 

Slowly the anguished moments 

One after one went by, 
Till the wan flame died in darkness, — 

And there followed the babe's birth-cry ! 



FORWARD I 113 



FORWARD ! 

T IVE swiftly, that thy slow years may not falter 
Dragging dull feet along time's weary way ; 
In quick succession let emotions alter, 

And crowd the life of years into a day ; 
They miss the secret who with trifles palter 

And dally idly when they fleet should run. 
Be thy course as of splendid comet wheeling 

Its matchless march onward from sun to sun ; 
Waymarks along our path are throes of feeling. 

Who soonest lives them through is swiftest speeding 

Along the road to loftiest being leading. 

Forward ! If through pain's thorns thy pathway 
leadeth 

'T were surely best to hasten to be done. 
If in joy's meads, yet linger not ; he speedeth 

To fuller bliss who spurns the meaner one. 
As the hot runner not an instant heedeth 

What lies anear so that the goal be far. 



114 FORWARD! 

So let thy race imshcking be and breathless, 
Thy goal as .distant as the farthest star ; 

In haste forsake the dying for the deathless ; 
Be in an instant old, and youth's endeavor 
Leave far behind in flight toward the Forever. 

Only if love's cup to thy lip be lifted, — 

Love sweet and cruel as an altar flame, — 
Be thou wdth this supremest guerdon gifted. 

Drink reverently, as men the sacred Name 
Pronounce, and slowly, slowly as are shifted 

The stars eternal in their lofty place ; 
So slowly that no precious drop be wasted, 

No subtilest flavor fail to yield its grace. 
Who fully this divinest cup has tasted 

Knows in the draught all life's true worth and 
blessing, — 

His moments more than loveless years progressing. 



A REMORSE. 1 15 



A REMORSE. 

OHE was a milk-white nun 

With a soul like night's first star ; 
Sturdy and fleet my steed 

That carried us fast and far. 
But something in her eyes 

Prayed me my will forego. 
And all beguiling lies 

Met with a sacred '' No." 

So I spoke naked truth, 

And said : " Our love is crime 
That will smirch your swan-white soul 

Blacker than hell's own grime." 
So I said : " The price soul- wreck, 

Will you buy love's blisses so? " 
And she clung about my neck 

And wept, though she said " No." 



Tl6 A REMORSE. 

God knows I did not lie, 

Yet was I sore to blame 
That I kissed her yearning lips 

As a flame melts into a flame ! 
In anguish of self-scorn 

Slowly my black years go ; 
But first remorse was born 

When she unsaid that " No." 



rO MY INFANT SON. II 7 



TO MY INFANT SON. 

TN what fair land you dwelt before you came 

To this our earth, truly I cannot tell ; 
But much I fear you hold yourself to blame 

When you reflect, and doubt if you did well 
So far to range. What wild caprice did move you 
On quest so rash as changing worlds to prove you ? 

Much of that worLl I wonder, while I try 
Still to discover in your speech or mien 

Some clue its place or sort may signify. 
I surely something of that land unseen 

May gather if I do but watch you shrewdly, 

Although, perchance, I form my guesses crudely. 

It must a region be of sweetest cHme 

And wholesome air that one so fair has bred ; 
It much misheartens me that this world's grime 



Ii8 TO MY INFANT SON. 

Your milk-white soul may smirch ere all be said. 
Brought you no amulet or magic token 
By which all spells of evil may be broken? 

That you were wise with wisdom of that land 
Your canny winsomeness full well doth show ; 

Though some strange vow I cannot understand 
Has sealed your lips from telling what you know. 

No hint can I beguile from your discretion 

To give me of its lore the least impression. 

I am assured by your right regal air 

You were a prince therein, of sway supreme ; 

Sooth, it behooves me speak Your Highness fair 
Against the day you shall your crown redeem ! 

I pray consider, if at times I thwart you, 

'T is but that useful lessons may be taught you. 

Belike from your superior heights you deem 
Much that I count of w^eight but little worth ; 

To you, no doubt, as idle fardels seem 

The things men strive for in this gurly earth. 

But do not by your former standards measure ; 

These are the best we know of worth or pleasure. 



TO MY INFANT SON. 119 

Had we the knowledge renders you so wise, 
We too, mayhap, would all these trifles scorn ; 

Would hold earth's honors as the emptiest lies, 
Its gains as windle-straws trampled forlorn. 

Yet, certes, we already hold them lightly ; 

Sad were our case to rate them yet more slightly. 

Methinks I was a fool that your sweet speech, 
When first you came, I did not strive to learn, 

But cumbered rather mine to you to teach, 

When surely yours had better served your turn. 

If you were minded any hints to scatter 

Of the hid way you came, or such high matter. 

They much must miss you in your former place ; 

It chills my heart to think how lorn and sad 
Would be the home had known, but lost, your grace. 

Prithee consider, fair sojourning lad. 
How little able I to live without you. 
And slip not back, even should fortune flout you. 

Some time, it may be, fate will be so kind 
As passports to us both at once to send ; 
And 1 myself your guest, perhaps, may find, 



120 TO MY INFANT SON. 

And watch you as you debonairly bend 
To the glad plaudits of your subjects loyal, 
Half mad with joy to greet their master royal. 

Ah, well ; if so it fall, though I should be 
Far from the throne set in the lower ranks. 

Yet I at least your kingly state may see, 

And babble garrulous to those around of pranks 

You played while here incognito you tarried. 

And out of sight your wings and aureole carried. 

Meanwhile, since my son's shape you deign to wear, 
If I fall short in aught, beseech you, naught 

Set down to malice. Since within you share 
A king's state yet, with kingly kindness fraught 

Be still your thought. Reflect : we both walk blindly 

Then why should either bear himself unkindly? - 



FARDELS. 121 



FARDELS. 



THE MOON-MAIDENS. 



T ONGING, each lovely moon-maiden 

Looks on the earth, which rides 
Round as a shield light-laden 
In which the love-god bides ; 

While earth's love-lorn daughters, longing, 
Gaze on the moon with sighs ; 

Fall amorous impulses thronging 
From those moon-maidens' eyes? 



AGE-DREAD. 

Sad must it be when one is old 
To feel the heart of youth 

Hot beating though the blood be cold 
And panting in self-ruth 



122 FARDELS. 



Like some wild bird that beats its wings 

Buried beneath the snow 
The stealthy avalanche sudden flings, 

Whelming the vales below. 



FOR A SUN-DIAL. 

The shadows on the dial fall, 

But who can tell 
How soon a cloud may end them all — 

And life as well ! 



A woman's thought. 

Though you the heights of love have trod 
And walked the depths of hate ; 

Though power tremble at your nod, 
And deed on will await ; 

Life's keenest joy you yet have missed, 

Nor can you understand, 
Till you your baby's mouth have kissed, 

Have touched your baby's hand. 



FARDELS. 123 



THE WHOLE OF TRUTH. 



I prayed a spirit who bade ask a boon : 

" Show me the whole of truth." He bent his head 

With look of awe. " Globed like unto the moon 

The perfect truth; complete its round," he said. 

" Only the All that compasseth its sphere 

May see the whole, whose parts to us appear." 



A DULL DAY. 

The daisy grows, 

The daisy blows ; 
The foot of the clown 

Treads its down. 
Be hfe the fairest, 
Be hope the rarest, 
The guerdon for lover and saint and knave 

Is a grave. 



The child is born 
White-souled j forlorn 
The man, black as crime 
With earth's grime. 



124 FARDELS. 

What eyes 'scape the smarting 
Of sorrow's tears starting? 
What hope or endeavor to blessing wins 
More than sins? 



THE CHANGE. 

When I met Death, I said : 
" Alive in humble state I shrank ; 
Now with the mightiest I rank, 

Being dead." 

But he replied : " Not so. 
Death changes not the soul, which still 
Is in itself its good or ill, 

Its joy or woe." 



A WORD S WEIGHT. 

Taunts and reproaches poured on me my foe 
And moved me not ; and yet when soft and low 
One syllable so light it scarce was heard 
My loved one murmured^ all my soul was stirred ! 



FARDELS. 125 



ABANDONMENT. 

The jasmine drops its blossoms, 

Yellow as gold and as sweet as myrrh, 

As if it lived but to strew the path, 
And to die in serving her. 

She treads them down unheeding, 

Blossoms or hearts that bestrew her way ; 

And yet my heart in her path I fling. 
Though her feet she will not stay. 

SOLITUDE. 

One sought a place a crime to dare, 
So lone not even God should be aware. 

God gave his wish and drew aloof; 

Yet not alone he found himself in proof. 
Since his own soul was there. 

TO A COQUETTE. 

They say, forsooth, thou hast no heart, — 
What does it matter, with those eyes? 



1 26 FARDELS. 

They say thou ansvverest truth with art, 
I care not since that voice repUes ! 
Whate'er thine inner self may be, 
I needs must worship what I see. 



PARTING. 

I parted from my friend, 
While wailed the sea 

That love-lit days must end 
And parting be. 

I parted from my foe ; 

No less the sea 
Sounded its wail of woe 

That partings be. 



TANTALUS. 

I clasp thee in my arms ; 

I gaze into thine eyes, 
Till far down in their deeps 

I see thy soul arise. 



FARDELS. 127 

For that I thirst and burn, 

Content with naught beside 
While still thy soul of souls 

Is to my grasp denied ! 



cupid's bargain. 

When Love was young, the wilful boy. 

His own affairs conducted, 
And strangest errors made, because 

He would not be instructed. 

But age o'ertook the rogue at last. 
And stopped this wild proceeding. 

Full soon he found, throughout the world, 
His power fast receding. 

And so, for quite a handsome sum, — 
Though Cupid's name for gammon 

Was still retained, — his business all 
Love traded off to Mammon. 



128 FARDELS. 



AN ANSWER. 



"The gods have hated me," one said, 

" That they send black- browed Woe to sit 

Beside my hearth." Her sombre head 
Woe raised, and answered : " Slow of wit 

" In sooth thou art, and dull of sight, 
Who thus the eternal gods dost blame. 

To those whom the gods' hate doth blight 
Is sent in wrath not Woe, but Shame ! " 



WEE ROSE. 

Wee Rose is but three 

Yet coquets she already ; 

I can scarcely agree 

Wee Rose is but three 

When her archness I see ! 

Are the sex born unsteady? 

Wee Rose is but three. 
Yet coquets she already. 



TO A FLYING-FISH. 129 



TO A FLYING^FISH. 

"pISH, most uneasy, 

Through air so breezy 
An instant, silver-wing'd, you soar ; 

Then downward lunging 

Behold you plunging 
Into the waves that darkly roar. 

Your flight gulls follow, 

Intent to swallow 
Your hapless self with hungry greed ; 

Beneath the water 

Sharks, bent on slaughter, 
No less are mad on you to feed. 

Sure either danger 
Might fright a ranger, 
But you, poor fish, must both endure ; 
9 



130 TO A FLYING-FISH. 

'Twixt air and ocean 
Ever in motion, 
And yet in neither e'er secure. 

Though ne'er you know it, 

Much like the poet 
You take your way through flood and air. 

He soars in fancy, 

Strange necromancy 
Holding him one bright moment there ; 

Then downward falling, 

With plunge appalling. 
He sinks into cold fact absurd. 

Though more than man, he 

Not spirit can be, — 
As you are neither fish nor bird. 

Like gulls to swallow 

The critics follow 
His flight that yearns toward the sky ; 

While care and hunger 

And the book-monger 
Below in ambush darkly lie. 



TO A FLYING-FISH. 13 1 

Bitter the choosing, 

Though its refusing 
Doth cruel fate deny the bard. 

Though song bring anguish, 

Yet mute to languish 
To poet's heart were pain more hard. 

Yet still the minute 

While one is in it 
That flight seems worth all pain below ; 

Though fate phlegmatic 

Its joys ecstatic 
Will swiftly drown in waves of woe. 

And, fish, beheve me, 

It much would grieve me 
Were you content your wings to spare ; 

No pains that rive you. 

Can e'er deprive you 
Of raptures felt when up you fare ! 



132 A SHAPE. 



A SHAPE. 

/^NCE in a dreadful dream I saw a shape 
Too horrible for human word to tell ; 
With sting to pierce, talons to hold, and gape 
Of fangs to rend, as horrible as hell. 

Its eyes smote like the basilisk's ; a flame 
Enveloped it, despoiling all sans ruth. 

" See me and fear," it cried. " Hear but my name, 
And flee me shuddering, for I am Truth ! " 



JUDITH. 133 



JUDITH. 

QHE was lithe and supple and straight 

As the palm-tree at her gate ; 
The wild pard had not her grace, 
While the splendors of her face 
Ate into men's hearts like flame. 
Burned her eyes with amorous fire, 

And the greed of their desire 
Was for soul as well as limb. — 

But she made their radiance dim, 
And to Holofernes came. 

To the hero, lust and wine 

Made half bestial, half divine. 

Came Judith with smooth neck bare. 
Arms naked, and breasts as fair 

As the white and full-orbed moon. 

In alluring disarray- 
Slipped her loosened robes away ; 

While her smile, with fell intent, 
In and out of hiding went 

Like a wolf will ravage soon. 



1 34 JUDITH. 

It was while he sleeping lay, 

When the night paled into day ; 
Strength and power and renown 

By her woman's guile struck down ; 
That her blow fell, sure and swift. 
Her imperial, ivory side 

His hot hfe-blood, spurting, dyed ; 
While her quick, insatiate eyes 

Gloat above him where he lies. 

And her hands his great head lift. 

Then with holy mien she goes. 

As if early from repose 
Called by pious thoughts to prayer ; 

And the thin, chill morning air 

With the scent of blood she taints. 
All her heart's fierce lusts full fed 

Walks she with abased head, 
Cruel in her glee as hell ; — 

Till all Israel's praises swell 

For this chiefest of their saints ! 



FOR SYLVIA. 135 



SUNG TO AN ANTIQUE LUTE FOR SYLVIA. 



T WAITED in the pleasance fair 

My Sylvia to behold ; 
The while a mossy dial there 

The lagging moments told. 
*' Oh, silly dial, sooth," I said, 

" How slow thy shade doth move ; 
Persuade thine hours more quick to fly, 

And bring me her I love ! " 

At last she came ; but out, alas. 

Bliss flees as soon as won ! 
But one brief instant seemed to pass 

Before my sweet was gone. 
" Oh, cruel dial," cried I, '^ sooth, 

Couldst thou not slower move? 
Hadst thou no single jot of ruth 

To part me from my love? " 



136 FOR SYLVIA. 



II. 

Dear Mistress Sylvia, in thine eyes 

Do I such sweetness see 
That all my soul with joy would melt 

Were they but sweet for me. 
Ah, why so quick to cold disdain 

Doth all that sweetness turn 
If I but breathe the passion vain 

With which for thee I burn ? 

Dear Mistress Sylvia, though thy scorn 

My outward form doth win, 
Yet surely love must touch thine heart 

Couldst thou but look within. 
Look on me as a casket graced 

With precious gems divine. 
Or as a cup which to thy taste 

Doth proffer priceless wine. 



FOR SYLVIA. 137 



III. 



Give me a look of cold disdain, 

And all my hope is lost ; 
I pine like flowers that have been slain 

By an untimely frost. 
Let kindness but one dear glance fill, 

And straight such life 't will give, 
New hope and joy my pulses thrill, 

And in thy glance I live. 

I laid a rosebud in thy hand 

Soft flushing like thy cheek ; 
Its message thou couldst understand. 

And yet thou wouldst not speak. 
Oh, like that rosebud, doubly blessed. 

Might I thy bosom know, 
I 'd be content to seek thy breast, 

And die upon its snow ! 



138 FOR SYLVIA. 



IV. 

I heard the flutes and viols play 

Full many a merry tune, 
Like choirs of birds that wanton gay 

In thickets green with June ; 
And yet again they plaintive wailed 

In cadence sad and slow, 
As if nor string nor pipe availed 

To voice their bitter woe. 

And if they grave or jocund rang 

Still seemed my heart to speak ; 
My thought of Sylvia yet they sang. 

For which were word too weak. 
They breathed my grief and joy profound. 

Yet could not half reveal ; 
For love is sweeter than all sound, 

More deep than song's appeal ! 



FOR SYLVIA. 139 



V. 



Dear Mistress Sylvia, as I went, 

My heart was filled with thee ; 
Thy presence with my musings blent, 

Thine image walked with me. 
New-fallen all about my feet 

The fresh, unsmirched snow 
Of thy pure life a semblance meet 

Did in its whiteness show. 

But as I walked, my trace I left, 

Unsightly and unfair, 
Which straight my heart of joy bereft, 

And filled my breast with care. 
Dear, should I thus thy life besmutch, 

I give my passion o'er; 
Since, though I prize thy love so much, 

I prize thy whiteness more ! 



I40 THE SPANISH MAIN. 



THE SPANISH MAIN. 

DEVON, 1575. 

^OME, shake out the sails, and clear up the decks, 

The wind is piping and free ; 
Clap hard down the helm, till in snow-storm of flecks, 
The foam flies up from the lee ; 
Once more we begin to live again, 
We are ofl", brave lads, for the Spanish Main ! 

Get cutlass and matchlock ready for use, — 

We are going for more than play ! 
For throat of the Spaniard get ready the noose, — 
The yard-arm is ready alvvay ! 
For quarter who begs will beg in vain. 
When we settle scores on the Spanish Main. 

A galleon sails for Cadiz with freight 

Of pearls and opals and gold ; 
Alert in her track will our stanch vessel wait. 



THE SPANISH MAIN. 141 

Her ingots shall stuff our hold. 
The black-bearded dogs shall lose their gain, 
And reckon with us on the Spanish Main. 

Queen Bess with a mouth-filling oath shall declare 

Were ne'er lads more worthy her grace ; 
Old Devon shall ring with the names that we bear, 
And think of the pride in Drake's face ! 
Then, hearties, be quick ; the very planks strain 
In their eager zest for the Spanish Main. 

Remember the comrades starved in the dark 

Of Spain's black dungeons' despair ; 
We fight in God's quarrel ; what man has a spark 
Of soul, and yet could forbear? 
Up, lads, we are off to the proof again 
If England or Hell rules the Spanish Main ! 



14^ A BURIAL. 



A BURIAL. 



T^HE moon, as yellow as a citron, smoulders 

In the brown dusk of air ; 
Dull, oily scum on the black water moulders, 
Laced with long weeds like hair. 

With lurid flame the smoky torches burning 

Make blinder still the night ; 
The loathsome flood in viscid eddies turning 

Swirls in the rower's sight. 

Dim, noisome reptile shapes after it thronging. 

Into the dark lagoon 
A thing is slipped that throbbed with love and longing 

When last the sun marked noon. 



s 



BV A GRAVE. ^43 

BY A GRAVE. 

O fierce he was that with his might 



He smote down lies, and put to flight 
With tongue Uke sword of hght 
That flashing flies. 

So fine he was that each appeal, 
Though plea most faint, could straightway feel 
Deep will to help and heal 
Answer complaint. 

Oh, fine and fierce ! Could death subdue 
That strength of will, and take from you 
That ardor ever new. 
And burning still? 

Oh, fierce and fine ! Oh, comrade leal, 
These tears of mine tell what I feel 
Better than words reveal — 
Or sounding line. 



^44 BY A GRAVE. 

Dead others lie beyond recall ; 
You might defy vvhate'er befall ; 
Fierce, fine, above us all, 
You could not die ! 



THE ORIOLE. '45 



THE ORIOLE. 



r IKE a live flame wind-wafted from altars celestial 
■^ Floats the blithe oriole through the bright air ; 
Dropping down as half won by spring's glories 
terrestrial 

Buoyantly upward swift fleeting to fare. 
Like the light on a fount's rippling bosom that glances 

With the wavering pulse of its rhythmical flow, 
Now he rises, now falls ; or, as leaf blast-tossed dances. 

In whimsical mazes he sweeps to and fro. 

In the meadows beneath him the buttercups' chalices 
Gleam, beaten gold, in the glowing June sun ; 

The red clovers are fragrant as spikenard of palaces. 
Blue blooms the iris where topaz brooks run ; 

But oh, what so sweet, what so fair as his singmg ! 
What so lucent, so mellow ! Oh, oriole dear. 

Thy notes down the mist-muflled Stygian meads 

ringing 
Even shadowless ghosts, hope-abandoned, might 

cheer. lo 



^s. 



146 THE ORIOLE. 

How the fervor of being, the zest of Hfe glorious, 

Seethes in the lay like the spirit in wine 
As it foams in the cup of some hero victorious, 

Triumphing splendid at banquets divine. 
With what gurgling delight is his song brimming over ; 

With what infinite glee, like the laughter of Pan ! 
As the sunshine of June, the perfume of the clover, 

The caress of the west wind commingled and ran. 

How he sings with his flight, till the song-tide out- 
bubbling 
Hardly less motion than melody seems ; 
In ecstasy ever his passion redoubling. 

Flinging his notes as the sun flings its beams ; 
Like the amber of honey from fragrant combs dripping 
Where the bees of Hymettus have made them brim 
o'er. 
Like the shower of gold 'round the polished limbs 
slipping, 
When the god unto Danae descended of yore. 

Jocund bird, might I join in the joy that thou utterest, 
Dear would life be, as it once was of old; 



THE ORIOLE. 147 

As of old might my heart leap as light as thou 
flutterest, 
Clovers be censers and buttercups gold. 
Like the day when love comes is the oriole's singing, 
When from fulness of bliss all the fond bosom 
aches ; — 
Oh, sweet oriole, sing ! Drown the death-bell's dread 
ringing, 
For when love hears that clang, then the lonely 
heart breaks ! 



148 THE BEGINNING AND ENDING. 



THE BEGINNING AND ENDING. 

TIT'HEN God strewed the stars down the void 
As a sower flings wheat to the field ; 
When all space trembled under 
His footsteps of thunder, 
And the lightning His pathway revealed ; 
When the systems Hke legions of angels deployed, 
And their suns were as dust to His breath ; 
Behind all His splendor supernal 
There brooded a darkness eternal ; 
And the name of that darkness was Death. 

It lurked like a shadow which lies 

Where some planet floats lonely in space ; 

Like the blackness which follows 

The moon's mountain hollows 
Till they darken forever her face ; 



THE BEGINNING AND ENDING. 149 

Like a garment it clung, as through infinite skies 
The Creator in majesty trod, 

In glory immensurate glowing, 

Ineffable radiance bestowing. 
The unspeakable lustre of God. 

Then Hfe through the universe swept 
As a whirlwind of flame wraps a star. 
From the godhead up-welling, 
Its floods ever swelling, 
Burst in billows gigantic afar. 
To the bound'ries of space and God's thought life 
out-leapt. 
There its infinite largess to pour. 

As the moon-driven tide of the ocean 
In the stress of resistless commotion 
Overwhelms with its waters the shore. 

Like dust on the wild blasts of space 
Countless millions of races were swirled. 
Till each star-mote that slumbered 
With beings was cumbered, 
And was waked to its weird as a world. 
Though all universe-wide was dissevered their place. 



150 THE BEGINNING AND ENDING. 

In their destiny still were they one ; 
Blind, pitiful, helpless, unknowing, 
Like sparks on a wintry wind blowing, 

Which even beginning are done. 

Wherever life's tide flooded grand. 

All the universe broad thrilling through, 
Death followed its waking, 
As wave on crag breaking 
In recoil dashes backward anew. 
As the seed in its germ holds the forest unspanned. 
Thus the word of creation hid death ; 
Existence was like that illusion 
Where rainbows above the confusion 
Of the maelstrom hang frail as a breath. 

Like a heart which unfaltering beats, 
So the infinite tumult of life 

Throbbed in mighty pulsation. 
The ceaseless mutation 
Of being's unquenchable strife. 
As an arrow unswerving which swift forward fleets, 
So the world-tide unwavering sped. 

Sweeping on to that end which was fated, 



THE BEGINNING AND ENDING. 15 1 

That doom which already awaited 
When the word of creation was said. 

When God shall upgather the stars 
As a gleaner upgathers the wheat ; 
When the suns all their splendor 
Forever surrender, 
Plucked like corn from the paths where they fleet ; 
When His hand, which hath builded the universe, mars, 
And to nothingness brings it again ; — 
A presence shall still lurk behind Him, 
A power resistless shall bind Him, 
As the fiat of fate doth constrain. 

Then into Death's keeping at last 

Will He render the spoils of His hand, 
Their substance dissolving, 
Fate's debt thus absolving, 
Till all space bare and empty doth stand ; 
Till the Darkness and God only dwell in the vast, 
And that moment of God men call time 
Hath vanished )ike flash of star falling ; 
And voice of deep unto deep calling 
Wakes no longer the echoes sublime. 



152 THE BEGINNING AND ENDING. 

Then the All in the vast broods supreme, 
Undivided, as when cosmic dust 
In one globe-fire hath blended ; 
There self-comprehended. 
Self-sphered, self-perfected, august. 
As a soul unto consciousness waked from a dream. 
Broods the All when existence is done. 
For God, who is glory supernal. 
And Death, which is darkness eternal, 
The Beginning and Ending, are One ! 



THE END. 



